More.....
I share this not to make anyone sad (even though you will be), but rather to celebrate. He got his buck!!
"This is a story I wrote on the back pages of a mountain man book I was reading shortly after I learned my best friend of 35 years was found deceased near Bridge Brook Pond.
I was on a plane headed home from the colorado mountain area known as “The Wilson Range” where Ray and I hunted for 25 years…..
“MY FRIENDS LAST DAY….and a day we share”
Today my friend for life died in the woods.
Ive tried to imagine the day he had, how it started and how it ended.
He left the shores of the big lake alone well before day break in search of the biggest buck of all.
For weeks he talked about this deer, all his plans and where he’d travel to get a poke at this old sentinel.
I imagine as he stepped from his boat and grabbed his pack for a day on the track of this giant.
He probably shivered a little as he shouldered a pack well equipped with fire starter, food, extra gear and a celebratory flask he’d nip when he felled the old giant.
As he headed up along the brook toward the big balsam swamp he knows is the old bucks sleeping quarters he must have been full of anticipation and keen senses.
He would be listening for the slightest of leaves rustling or the smallest snap of a twig.
His breath could be seen in the predawn air. He checked the wind direction, it was perfect.
He climbed a steep ridge overlooking the mile long thicket where the young buck became the old buck, just like he did.
The leaves where crunchy with a slight dusting of crystal snow, too noisy for a stalk.
The hunter with so many bucks under his belt and so much experience knew he needed to sit cold and quiet waiting for the morning sun to slowly peak over the timbered ridge and shed warm rays of sun to soften the runway that big ole buck liked to travel.
He knew that old boy liked to follow that runway from a perch high on the ridge down to that balsam swamp that’s thicker than hair on a dogs back.
It took some time for things to warm up and ill bet my old friend got real cold, maybe even shivered. I know though he knew he had to be patient and go slow, keep the wind in his face for this is the wisest of all bucks.
I’m guessing my friend got numb from the cold but things did finally soften up and it was time to move.
As he climbed down from his watch he adjusted his pack, clenched cold, his old mans rifle ( he’d carried for years) and slowly, carefully, he “pussy footed” down the trail….a trail that would lead him to the deepest, darkest most beautiful hideaway for a buck too wise to be taken.
Knowing my friend, if anyone could catch this buck napping it would be him.
He knew it and I knew it. As he drew closer and closer, he crept slowly, everything was perfect! The woods seemed to favor my friend on this day.
I wonder how close he got, how full of anticipation he must have had.
Knowing my friend he checked his sights over and again while remembering the words of his Father…
“Step once, look twice”
It was this day, the day we all face, the day we meet “the lady of the woods”. I wonder did she sit him down by a tree for an eternal sleep or did he stumble and fall?
I may never know, but this was the day my friend and the woods became one.
One in perfection of a life lived well.
At the last beat of my friends massive, generous, loving heart all fell silent and for just a minute the woods and time stood still.
So with a slight smile and a last twinkle in his eye, my friend was in his Heaven….
After a spell I’m guessing the breeze began to blow November leaves, and the chickadees began to “ chickadee”, the blue jays called out back and forth and the gray jays fluttered about watching my friend with a curious tilt of there head and maybe even an occasional chirp.
My friend is gone…for how long I don’t know.
Did he sight that buck or did that big ole buck find him at his final rest?
I know my friend thou, and I can here his voice with that Tupper Lake accent in my ears right now…”Danny, that son of a bitch got the jump on me!”….and so is the last day of my beautiful ole friend.
I will forever hear his voice in the wind on a hardwood ridge and his whisper in the haunts of the big balsam swamp…”step once, look twice”.
Ray, my friend, I will forever miss you. I will miss all our fun and all our talks.
Ill try not to look back , but I’m sure I will, we have no regrets my friend, We did it all….
….and you my friend get to join our Fathers and all the others for an eternity of perfect hunting and a camp full of good cheer….I love you my friend…see you again…save me a seat!
PROLOGUE:
I learned from his searchers a short time after I wrote this story my friend Ray was found on a ridge a short ways from his Fathers favorite watch, his rifle shouldered and both hands tightly clasped around a drag rope next to a fine Adirondack buck"
Sent from Dan Christmas
Ph: 315-271-7757
Email:
landbuyer50@gmail.com
Website:
landandcamps.com
Trail cam picture of his buck
www.adirondackdailyenterprise.com
